


Blood for a Stone

by SkystoneJexel



Series: The Skystone Sword [6]
Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Ancient magic, Falador, Gen, Temple Knights, The Temple at Senntisten, Varrock Digsite, White Knights, questfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkystoneJexel/pseuds/SkystoneJexel
Summary: While on a quest to help Azzanadra restore the ancient Zarosian temple at Senntisten, Jexel finds cause to reconsider his choices.





	Blood for a Stone

Jexel inhaled sharply as he examined the face of the icon, a gruesomely detailed figure of a man, afflicted with numerous wounds, desperately praying for deliverance. There was something about it that was deeply unsettling. Perhaps it was because the statuette seemed so mockingly contemptuous of the man it depicted, or perhaps it was its legacy of evil, all the prayers it had intercepted from Saradomin’s faithful, cut off from the Eternal Choir…

In any case, he was glad to have removed it from the Barrows. At the digsite, it would never harm anyone again.

It was almost noon, and the museum’s staff had been hard at work for hours. Workers tirelessly dug away at the earth, while archaeologists carefully gleaned whatever artifacts they could from some newly uncovered Saranthian ruins, taking them back to the museum for further study. There was even a dwarven engineer present, speaking to the overseer about setting up some kind of machine to speed up the excavation.

He could not help but marvel at the Museum of Varrock’s dedication to history. There were still so many questions left unanswered. What had it been like to live in Saranthium, and what misfortune could have caused the downfall of such a mighty city?

Even more questions surrounded the city of Senntisten that had preceded it, and the dark god it worshipped. As he remembered Senliten’s warning, that uneasy feeling crept back into his mind. Zaros had not only invaded Kharid, but he had once waged war against Saradomin as well. Was he really doing the right thing by restoring the temple, or were some things better left forgotten?

Reluctantly, he stepped towards the shaft leading to the temple. Perhaps the Zarosians had once committed evil deeds, but those he had met seemed honorable enough, and surely everyone deserved a chance for redemption.

The scarce light that crept down through the shaft was just enough for him to make out the great wooden doors of the temple of Senntisten, and as he flung them open, he found himself staring into the main chamber.

Azzanadra had certainly been busy with the restoration. Jexel heard his footsteps echo throughout the massive chamber as he stepped upon the smooth, purple-tinted stone tiles of the floor. Braziers lit with a blood-red, smokeless fire illuminated several pillars that stretched up towards a ceiling the light could not reach, and intricate patterns danced across the expertly chiselled stone walls of the temple as the blood-flames reflected off canals of water running through the edges of the room. Towards the center of the chamber were several empty pews surrounding an open space, where the floor proudly displayed a massive, golden symbol of Zaros.

At the far end, Jexel spotted the dragon-metal prongs of the Pontifex’s headdress, prostrated before a granite and marble altar. “Pray for the day that the Great Lord rises; It is the day thou shalt be rewarded,” the Pontifex muttered to himself.

“Azzanadra,” said Jexel, approaching the altar. The Mahjarrat rose to his feet and turned to face him. Though his skeletal face was difficult to read, he seemed pleased.

“Greetings, Jexel,” replied Azzanadra. “The restoration is finally complete. Magnificent, isn’t it? The First Temple of Zaros, just as it was in ages past.”

“It’s quite a sight,” said Jexel, his eyes scanning the band of metallic turquoise symbols lining the walls. Though the letters were similar to those of the common tongue, he could not understand the words, which seemed to be in Low Saradominist. Had the language once been spoken by the Zarosian church as well?

“You really built all of this from memory?” he asked.

“I served as the Pontifex Maximus for centuries,” Azzanadra answered. “I have spent more time in this temple than any living human has spent on this world.”

Azzanadra sighed wistfully. “It is difficult to accustom myself to how much quieter it is now, how much more still. If only you could have seen this temple at the height of the Empire’s power. The priests chanting the word of Zaros as they knelt before the altar. The faithful listening reverently from the pews, the knights standing dutifully on guard through day and night…”

“Ah, but we must keep our focus on the present,” said Azzanadra. “I see you have retrieved the icon from the Barrows.”

“I have,” Jexel replied, holding the icon in front of him.

“Excellent work, adventurer. Once you place it on that pedestal, we will be ready to begin.” Azzanadra pointed to one of the three smooth, cylindrical stone pedestals surrounding the symbol of Zaros in the center of the room, illuminated by a bloodfire lamp hanging from a chain directly above it.

“Didn’t you say there were three artifacts? I’ve only retrieved two of them,” said Jexel, placing the icon on its pedestal.

“Indeed,” Azzanadra replied. “An… ally of ours has already retrieved the final artifact.” He pointed to a pedestal directly across from the Barrows icon, a fragment of gray stone resting upon it.

Jexel’s eyes widened as he looked at the artifact. Somehow, it looked familiar…

When he approached, he felt his pulse quicken with anger. Carved into the face of the stone artifact was the star of Saradomin. He had definitely seen it before.

“The assassin who attacked Entrana… you were the one who sent him!” Jexel glowered at Azzanadra.

“He was not my choice, Jexel,” Azzanadra replied. “Indeed, it was one of my Zarosian brothers who commissioned him to retrieve our relic from Entrana. Still, did he not manage to complete his mission? It seems to me he was the perfect choice for the job.”

“The perfect choice for the job?” Jexel asked, raising his voice. “I was there. That assassin killed several unarmed monks! Your fellow Zarosian sent a killer to butcher his way across a peaceful island!”

“That age-battered stone was stolen from this very temple long ago. It belongs only to Zaros!” Azzanadra snapped. “Look at its face. Look at how those monks have desecrated it with the symbol of their false god! The assassin deserves our thanks for liberating it from those light-fingered Saradominists, regardless of his methods.”

“It doesn’t matter what my people did to yours thousands of years ago!” Jexel seethed. “It doesn’t justify the murder of innocents! Are those monks responsible for what was done ages before they were born? Do they even remember the relic’s origins?”

“What is done is done,” said Azzanadra. “The relic is once again in our hands, and we must make use of it.”

“No,” said Jexel, drawing his sword. “I will not allow the massacre you orchestrated to go unpunished. This relic belongs to the Cathedral of Entrana and I’m going to bring it back, over your corpse if necessary.”

“Beware, Saradominist,” Azzanadra replied, the violet lights of his eyes staring sternly into Jexel’s. “If you attempt to remove that relic from this temple, I will be forced to destroy you.”

“Before the ritual?” asked Jexel, raising his blade. “I think not.”

He reached for the relic, only to quickly retract his hand as a storm of snow surrounded the pedestal. Within a split second, it had fused into a solid block of ice, missing him by less than an inch.

As he turned his attention to Azzanadra again, he saw lightning crackling between the Mahjarrat’s open palms. “Merge inimica mea dolore,” Azzanadra chanted.

A presence invaded Jexel’s mind. It was almost like the Eternal Choir, but darker… more malicious… painful, like some sort of curse. He had to break free of it. “I will smite the worshippers of lesser gods,” he whispered, but the answer to his prayer was so much fainter than usual. Something was pulling on the bond, trying to sever it.

The Barrows icon. He had to destroy the icon. He pulled out his wand and prepared an air spell.

The dark presence… so difficult to focus. The power of the runes felt so distorted and weak, and his spell barely even tipped over the icon.

Azzanadra rushed over to the icon, attempting to put himself between it and Jexel. His hands glowed with an intense red light, and an orb of boiling blood rushed towards Jexel.

Jexel sidestepped the orb, returned his wand to its sheath, and charged towards the Mahjarrat. As long as he was at a distance, the Mahjarrat had the advantage.

As Jexel approached, an unnatural shadow covered the room. He swung his sword, but was met only with a swish as it cut through the air.

A spell hummed behind him, and he just barely dodged an icicle aimed at his face. Another followed, and another. The dark presence was growing in intensity. Was Azzanadra getting faster, or was he getting slower?

He could hardly see anything through Azzanadra’s shadow spell. All he could do was listen to where the icicles were coming from and avoid them as their howls drew near him.

Jexel advanced towards where it sounded like Azzanadra was, and as the shadow spell began to fade, he found himself face-to-face with the Mahjarrat.

He thrust his sword at the Mahjarrat’s abdomen, only to hear a scrape as Azzanadra ducked slightly, causing it to strike his armored chest instead. As his blow landed, he felt the dark presence recede a little, but it was not enough to break his torment. The icon had rendered his prayer of smiting so feeble…

He slashed at Azzanadra’s unprotected arms, and his adversary stumbled back as he narrowly avoided Jexel’s assault.

Azzanadra, however, was far from beaten. His hands glowed faintly with power, and he unleashed a blast of smoke, knocking Jexel off his feet as it blew past him and engulfed everything around him.

He coughed deeply. He had to back off… he couldn’t breathe.

Snow swirled around him as Azzanadra prepared another spell. As he attempted to scramble away, his feet were encased in ice. He was trapped.

Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He had to escape… live to fight another day. He reached for his wand. The dark presence… hard to focus. One law, one water, three air…

He saw a red glow through the smoke as Azzanadra charged a spell, but with a wave of his wand, the world faded away, and he was surrounded only by a tunnel of light. For a moment, it felt like his body was floating freely, unshackled by the confines of the world.

The next moment, he stumbled, feeling stone beneath his feet. He looked up to see the gilded marble statue of Saradomin that decorated the center of the lodestone in Falador’s city square. He inhaled deeply. His teleport spell had worked; he was safe.

“You, in the blue tunic!” shouted a voice from behind him. He turned around to see one of the lodestone guards glaring at him, her crossbow trained on his chest. “Put the sword and the wand away, slowly!”

Jexel nodded, returning the blade to its scabbard and his wand to its sheath, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“What were you doing with your weapons drawn?” the guardswoman barked at him.

“I was confronting a powerful sorcerer responsible for several murders,” Jexel replied. “I have come to inform the knights.”

“Oh yes? And how do I know you’re not a murderer yourself, and won’t just run off the moment you leave the lodestone?” asked the guard.

Jexel sighed deeply. What could he possibly say that would satisfy this ridiculous guard?

Another guard approached. Jexel recognized the man as the captain of the lodestone guards, his helmet trimmed with silver. “Private Schmidt, you’re speaking to Skystone Jexel.”

“Skystone Jexel, sir? The adventurer?” Schmidt asked.

“The very same,” the captain replied. “He’s a friend of Asgarnia, and you will let him pass.”

“With all due respect, sir,” asked Schmidt. “Is a famous adventurer not subject to the same laws as everyone else?”

“This man is not a danger, and you will let him go. That’s an order.”

Schmidt sighed. “Yes sir.” She turned to Jexel. “You’re free to go, adventurer. Obey the laws of Falador.”

“Thank you miss,” said Jexel to the guardswoman. “Sir,” he added, nodding to the captain before heading off in the direction of the White Knights’ castle.

He had once heard a traveller refer to Falador as ‘the city at the center of the world,’ and it was easy to see why. The market district of Falador sprawled outwards from the lodestone, signs in every color imaginable hanging from the doors of shops built from white stone, advertising their wares to all who passed.

In the pristinely paved streets of the city, traders from all over Gielinor had set up temporary stalls. A woman with a Kandarian accent called out to passersby, asking if they might try some of her Ardougne-style sandwiches. A man in a robe displaying the symbol of the Tai Bwo Wannai tribe of Karamja was selling exquisitely carved sculptures made from rare hardwoods. Even a goblin from the north had set up shop, selling roasted rat meat on sticks.

Jexel ventured onwards towards the center of the city, passing several blue-shingled houses, until he finally came to the castle, a mighty bastion towering over Falador, blue banners bearing the star of Saradomin fluttering gently in the wind as they hung from its white stone battlements.

He crossed the bridge that provided the only passage over the castle’s moat, passing through the shadows of statues depicting the greatest of the White Knights from the God Wars to the present, and as he reached the gate, two knights in pearly-white armor greeted him.

“Greetings, visitor,” said one of the knights, while the other watched him silently. “Have you business with the White Knights?”

“With the Temple Knights, actually,” Jexel replied. “Is Sir Tiffy present? I need to speak with him.”

“What is your name, visitor?” asked the knight.

“Jexel Luminel,” he replied.

“Squire Cadian!” the knight called out.

“Yes, Sir Curity?” replied a squire carrying a pack filled with scrolls.

“Inform Sir Tiffy that Jexel Luminel is here to see him.”

“Yes sir!” said the squire, saluting the knight before running off into the castle.

As he waited in the courtyard for Sir Tiffy to arrive, Jexel observed several White Knights engaged in sparring. There was one knight wearing the green tabard of an acolyte under the plates of her armor, coaching her squire as they fought a mock duel, and many other knights practicing halberd techniques in formation.

After a few minutes, the white-bearded, monocled face of Sir Tiffy emerged from the castle. “Jexel! Jolly good to see you again, young chap!” He approached Jexel, lowering his voice so the other knights could not hear. “What business do you have with the Temple Knights, lad?”

“Hello, Sir Tiffy,” Jexel replied. “I’ve discovered more information about the attack on Entrana.”

Tiffy nodded sternly. “I think it would be best for us to discuss this someplace more private, what?” He reached for his belt and retrieved some sort of device made of mithril and lined with dragon leather, with mind and body runes embedded in it.

“What’s that?” asked Jexel.

“This here device will put you in a magical sleep. The location of the Temple Knight headquarters is on a need-to-know basis, dontchaknow?” Tiffy replied.

“Is it safe?” Jexel asked.

“Hah! You’ve got nothing to worry about, lad!” said Tiffy. “Our researchers take great pride in their work. Once the device is removed, you’ll be up again in a jiffy, no harm done.”

Jexel nodded. “Very well. I’m ready.”

As Tiffy placed the device on Jexel’s head, his senses dulled until they faded completely. Some time passed, and when his awareness of the world around him began to return, he found himself lying on his back, staring up at a ceiling made of white stone.

“Are you awake, old bean?” he heard someone ask.

“Where am I?” Jexel asked drowsily. “Ah yes, the Temple Knight headquarters, right?”

“That’s quite right,” Tiffy replied.

Jexel nodded and rose to his feet, the confusion of his magical sleep wearing off. Sure enough, he seemed to be in a castle built from the same white stone as that of the White Knights. The room was devoid of any windows, even arrow slits, and lit with magical crystals similar to the ones used by the Wizards’ Tower, each radiating a cold, faintly blue-tinted light.

Sir Tiffy was sitting at a table nearby, sipping from a cup of tea, and standing at the back of the room, next to a sturdy wooden door, was a young priest of Saradomin wearing a hooded robe of leather and linen, with a mace fastened to his belt, its whitesteel flanges surrounding a sky-blue spellcasting orb.

“It’s good to see you, friend,” said the priest. “Sir Tiffy told me you had information that might be useful to my investigation?”

“Akrisae? I thought you were assigned to investigate Lucien,” Jexel replied.

“Not just Lucien, Jexel,” said Akrisae. “My mission is to uncover the schemes of the Mahjarrat, and we think they may have been involved in the attack on Entrana.”

“They were,” said Jexel. “I found the relic beneath the archaeological digsite just east of Varrock. A Mahjarrat named Azzanadra, under the alias of ‘Dr. Nabanik,’ has restored an ancient temple there, dedicated to a god named Zaros. The relic was inside.”

“Azzanadra...” Akrisae whispered. “I feared it might be…”

“You know of him?” asked Jexel.

“Our order has a long history, dontchaknow?” said Tiffy. “The followers of Zaros were quite a nuisance for us Saradominists during the God Wars. Azzanadra more than most.”

“The archives describe him as nigh invincible,” Akrisae added. “An unparalleled wielder of dark magic who served as the high priest of the Empty Lord. During the God Wars, he laid waste to countless soldiers, Saradominist and Zamorakian alike, until the Zamorakians finally imprisoned him in a pyramid in the Kharidian Desert. We feared when you entered the pyramid, he might have been released. He was the one behind the attack on Entrana, then?”

“He was certainly complicit in the attack, but he claims it was another Zarosian who ordered it,” Jexel replied. “If you can trust anything he says.”

“You spoke to him?” asked Akrisae.

“I did. I was to help him restore the temple,” he said, breaking eye contact with Akrisae.

Akrisae stared at him, his jaw dropping. “You helped him? How could you have done such a thing!?”

Jexel nodded, sighing remorsefully. “Forgive me. I… if I knew the Zarosians were responsible for such bloodshed, I never would have helped them. I was such a fool…”

“I understand, old bean,” said Tiffy. “I was quite the fool in my youth, but you’ve learned your lesson now, what?”

“Your naivety may have dire consequences for the world, Jexel, whether you intended to do harm or not,” said Akrisae, raising his voice slightly.

Jexel simply nodded again, saying nothing.

There was a brief silence before Akrisae spoke again. “But… you have recognized your error, and Lord Saradomin does teach us forgiveness. Perhaps I should not be so harsh.” He took a deep breath. “Did you discover what he planned to use the relic for?”

“To build a portal that would allow him to communicate with Zaros, with the aid of two other artifacts I provided for him: a horn from the frozen north known as the Frostenhorn, and an icon from the barrows of the Six Brothers in Morytania.” Jexel replied. “When I found the relic, I attempted to stop him, but he proved to be the better fighter.”

“To communicate with...” Akrisae trailed off, the color draining from his face. “Sir Tiffy, we must prepare a strike force at once! We can’t allow the Empty Lord’s dark influence to return to this world!”

“That won’t be necessary, young chap,” Tiffy replied, taking a sip of his tea.

“But-” Akrisae began to say.

“Zaros is long dead,” said Tiffy. “Even if he wasn’t, he’d never get past the Edicts of Guthix, what? We’ll keep two eyes on that Azzanadra fellow, and we’ll be ready if he tries anything disagreeable, but if he’s not an immediate threat anymore, let him squander his days in that temple.”

“Very well,” Akrisae replied weakly.

“Even if he’s not an immediate threat, what about the one responsible for the attack on Entrana?” asked Jexel. “If Azzanadra was telling the truth about not having ordered the attack, that means there’s another Zarosian out there we’ll need to contend with.”

“Dame Elyssa and I have been trying to discover the identity of the one who ordered the attack,” said Akrisae.

“Dame Elyssa? Savant?” asked Jexel.

“The very same, old bean,” said Tiffy. “Our operatives have captured someone who may be useful to this investigation, but he hasn’t been responding to… standard interrogation techniques, so we brought in one of our senior mystical researchers to magic things up a bit. What say you lads pay her a visit to check on her progress?”

“Certainly,” Jexel replied.

Akrisae gestured towards the door at the back of the room, and Jexel followed him through, entering an interrogation room. In the center was a man with short black hair, chained to a torture rack. A woman in a white wizard’s robe and a hooded cloak loomed over him, her hands brandishing a whitesteel battlestaff.

“You think your little runes scare me, knight?” said the man on the rack. Though his voice was slurred from whatever Savant had done to him, Jexel recognized it: he was the assassin from Entrana.

“Not enough for you?” asked Savant. “Fine then. Have another spell.”

“I was trained by the Death Lotus,” said the assassin, laughing weakly. “There is no bribe, serum, pain, or hex that can-” he grunted as Savant cast a mind-altering spell on him, engulfing him in a purplish-white flash.

“What do you want from me? What’s with all of this?” he said, his eyes wandering confusedly around the room. “This is a strange place. Am I still in a dream?”

“Tell me who hired you,” Savant demanded.

“What? Who hired me? Oh yeah, the Entrana thing. I guess I can tell you…” the assassin muttered sleepily. “It was a rather bookish fellow… stern face... named Wahisi-” He abruptly fell silent, as if something was physically stopping him from saying the name.

“Wahi…” he spoke again, before his eyes expanded in pain and terror. “Gaaah! No!”

The assassin screamed in agony, thrashing at his chains, as veins all over his face expanded and turned black. Jexel heard flesh and blood violently shifting and sloshing around, and Savant rapidly backed away. The next moment, the assassin’s chest erupted with a burst of smouldering blood, as if his heart had been set aflame and torn wide open. He twitched for a moment, then the thrashing stopped.

Silence fell over the room for a moment, as Jexel and the Temple Knights stared at the carnage.

“By Saradomin…” Savant whispered.

“What dark magic is this?” asked Akrisae, his voice quavering.

“I don’t know for sure,” Savant replied. “That… wasn’t expected. I suspect it was a demonic pact forbidding this assassin from revealing the identity of his employer. Our archives indicate that breaking such a pact has… gruesome consequences.”

“Getting back to business, however, the question remains… who is this ‘Wahisi’ person?” she asked.

“I think I know who it is,” said Jexel. “I recently managed to infiltrate the fortress of the Mahjarrat Zemouregal, and I came across some notes he had written about all of the remaining Mahjarrat, including one named Wahisietel. He was described as a Mahjarrat of average power who may have had Zarosian sympathies. With the ritual approaching, there’s no doubt we’ll see him soon.”

“Lucien, Azzanadra, and now this Wahisietel… how can we possibly defeat all of them? Saradomin help us…” said Akrisae, his eyes nervously darting between Jexel, Savant, and the splattered body of the assassin.

“We may be able to use this to our advantage, Akrisae,” said Savant.

“How?” asked Akrisae.

“These Zarosians have no more love for Lucien and the rest of the Zamorakians than we do,” Savant explained. “It may be a good idea to form a temporary alliance with them in order to stop him.”

Akrisae glared at her incredulously. “Are you mad? If you think the Temple Knights will work with two evil Mahjarrat to get rid of another, you can think again!”

“That’s not your decision to make, initiate,” said Savant. “And besides, what alternative is there?”

“I don’t know, but… surely we aren’t going to resort to this?” Akrisae replied.

“Akrisae, please,” said Jexel. “I may not like the idea of this alliance, but we have a duty to protect the people of Gielinor. It’s not worth risking our lives and theirs solely to satisfy our sense of honor. If it’s necessary for us to ally with the Zarosians to stop a greater enemy, then that’s what we should do.”

“Besides,” he added. “If we’re lucky, they may wipe each other out.”

“I understand,” Akrisae replied reluctantly.

“Should I inform Sir Tiffy of the plan then?” asked Jexel.

“That would be ideal,” Savant replied. “In the meantime, I’ll clean up this… mess.” She gestured towards what was left of the assassin’s corpse.

Jexel nodded and headed for the door.

“Jexel?” Akrisae called out. “Go in peace in the name of Saradomin. May his glory shine upon you like the sun.”

Jexel turned to face Akrisae. “Saradomin be with you, Father Akrisae. We have a dire battle ahead of us, but with courage and wisdom, I know we can prevail.” He turned again and left the interrogation room, closing the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is at last! Our first look at the Zarosians in my series, as well as the wonderful city of Falador. As you've no doubt noticed, I've changed quite a few things about The Temple at Senntisten from canon.
> 
> Something that bugs me slightly about that quest is that despite the Zarosians being responsible for the attack on Entrana that killed several defenseless monks, you have no choice but to let it slide and help them anyway. Sure, Azzanadra claims the relic was stolen from the Zarosians in the first place, but I don't think that justifies sending an assassin to Entrana. The monks of the Fifth Age were born millennia after the fall of the Zarosian Empire and cannot be held responsible for anything that was done by Saradominists during that era. In fact, given that Zaros is almost entirely forgotten by the Fifth Age, the monks probably didn't even know the relic was stolen. Because of this, I wanted to have Jexel make a different choice from canon; a choice that would be more in line with his character as a devout Saradominist who does not tolerate the spilling of innocent blood.
> 
> Since the Temple of Senntisten is so graphically outdated in-game, I took the liberty of giving it a new lick of paint. Hopefully the temple I've described in this story feels more grand, eerie, and more clearly Zarosian in appearance. I also hoped to make Falador feel more expansive and full of life, as the capital city of one of the three most powerful kingdoms on Gielinor should be.
> 
> Also, I would like to make it clear that I'm fully aware female Temple Knights use the title of "lady" in-game, but I used "dame" for Savant mostly out of personal preference. You wouldn't call Sir Tiffy "Lord Tiffy," so why should a female knight be referred to as "lady?"
> 
> I would like to thank everyone who read this fic. I really appreciate your support and being able to share my stories with you is such a joy! If it's not too much trouble, please consider leaving a comment explaining what you liked and disliked about this story, as constructive feedback helps me improve as a writer.


End file.
